


Meeting You At Last

by Copper_Goggles



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: AU mask unveiling, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Probably more angst than fluff tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7445953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copper_Goggles/pseuds/Copper_Goggles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A re-telling of what happened when Christine removed the Phantom's mask. It needed more fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting You At Last

Erik was composing when I entered the room, not to my great surprise. If he noticed my presence he did not acknowledge it. Instead, he was doubled over his parchment and scratching at it furiously with his quill, the light sound of his writing filling the silence. Satisfied with his notation, he resumed playing once more and I found myself quite transfixed as his long fingers danced across the keys. My eyes traveled up to his face. His mask was still in place, illuminated by the candlelight and I felt that familiar inkling of annoyance at its presence. Every time I had seen Erik he had that mask on. It hid all of his features and half the time I could not tell if he was frowning in annoyance or smiling at me. It was not the first time I had caught myself wondering what was under that visage. Perhaps the mystery of an anonymous mentor was useful at first. But now? I saw no reason.  
  
As Erik continued to work, I slowly crept towards him, my hands beginning to stretch out to him. Today I would find out who my angel was. The scenario had played in my head so many times since we first met. I would remove it. He would be shocked- possibly a little annoyed- at my boldness but I would stand tall, look him in the eyes and say _‘Hello Erik. It’s nice to finally meet you’ _. From there everything would move pleasantly into friendly conversation. It was all planned out in my mind. I saw no reason as to why it would go any differently. After all, what could possibly be so wrong about his face? Perhaps he found his complexion unbecoming. It mattered not. I knew him well enough now, surely this would only make this relationship- whatever it was- stronger. I wanted to know him. I had to know the face of my teacher... my angel.__  
With that final thought in mind, I lunged across the final few steps and tore the mask from my mentor’s face.  
  
The stunned silence lasted for a mere second before it was shattered. He howled as soon as he felt the cool air on his face and whirled around to leer at me. His mask was off. I had taken it off. The cold disguise glared accusingly up at me and I knew I had made a terrible mistake. There was nothing in the world that could have prepared me for his face and I felt my breath catch in my throat. His golden eyes that used to glow with warm light now seemed to burn harshly with their sunken appearance as he stared at my terrified face. I couldn't help it. His face was like a corpse’, thin skinned and malformed, with veins scattered everywhere. He had no nose, only the hole where a nose should have been. All of this was made even more terrible as it was scrunched up in sheer fury while the candlelight highlighted every groove and crevice, making each mark appear deeper and more gruesome. I abruptly dropped my gaze, fearing I would anger him even more.  
  
“NO!” he snarled, lunging forward. Gripping my arms, he wrenched my hands towards him, forcing me to place them on his face as I fought to pull away.  
  
“This is what you wanted isn’t it, Christine?” he seethed, ignoring my attempts to free myself from his slowly tightening grip. He chuckled madly.  
  
"Of course, I'm quite handsome aren't I, my dear? Quite the Don Juan"  
  
His face became a blur as I fought back tears. "Erik....Please"  
  
But he continued as if he had not heard me, his voice rising and falling as he attempted to choke back his rage.  
  
"But of course, my Christine, this is but another mask. My real, beautiful face is hidden still. Take it off Christine, take off my mask. Let me show you the beauty of my true face." He wrenched my hands closer again and began digging my nails into his cheek while I fought to pull away. At his insistent movement, thin trails of blood began appearing under my hands and I shrieked. Erik seemed further enraged as my tears fell freely.  
  
“Don’t scream. Are you not happy Christine?” he wailed, his voice rocketing of the wall. “Shouldn’t you happy now that you have seen the face of your angel? Please, look. Stare till your heart’s content. Isn’t this what you were expecting?”  
  
I tried to stop the tears, succeeding only in a guttural sob. “Stop it please.” I choked, trying once more to tug my hands free “This is hurting you. You're hurting me. Please.”  
  
At my words, Erik tossed his head back and laughed. His hands still grasping mine, digging into my flesh. I didn’t care. I was shocked still by the sound of his laugh. It was the most hideous sound in the world. Cold and mirthless and weighed down by years of anguish.  
  
“Hurt me? Me? You fear for Erik’s safety, Christine?” his hands reached up and held my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes adopted a wild look as his rigid body shook, the blood now trailing onto his shirt. I felt sick to my stomach.  
  
“I am the Phantom of the Opera. Foolish child! Nothing can hurt me in my domain!” he cried, and he tossed me to the floor. I stifled a cry as I felt my hands scraped raw by the impact. I lay stunned, my heart thundering in my ears as he continued his tirade. What had I done?  
  
His lair was feeling the full force of his anger. The chairs were toppled and the statues shattered. With one swift sweep of his arm, manuscripts and drawings on his table were scattered, some landing in the fireplace. Erik was oblivious to this, but I saw years of his life's work beginning to curl under the intense heat. As he continued his rage around the room, I rapidly crawled to the grate and reached in to pull out some of his beloved work. My hands seared and I fought back a scream against the pain, though I could not stop the tears now. They continued to stream down my face as I pulled his work to safety.  
His music now safely scattered around me, I cowered by the hearth as the yelling and smashing continued, rocking back and forth, humming all the while to distract myself.  
  
What was truly minutes seemed entire hours before I heard a door slam, plunging the room into utter, shocking silence. Cautiously uncurling myself, I glanced around the room, not seeing Erik but instead the crumbled heap of papers I had managed to save. Some of the pieces had holes burnt through them and were missing whole stanzas. Others were simply brown around the edges. Despite everything, I was thankful some of his beautiful work had survived. Tucking the paper in one of the draws, I shifted to see if I could locate him. He was nowhere in the room, which was now ruined. I seized the opportunity to rush through the house to my own room and bolted the door behind me. I jerked the handle a few times to make sure it was properly secured before sliding down the length of the door onto the floor.  
  
My heart was still beating rapidly and I placed my head in my hands. My fingers felt sticky and I had the sudden revolting realisation that they were still covered in blood. His blood. My nails were coated and I felt sickened. Mustering my resolve, I crawled to my adjoining bathroom and scrubbed at my hands. I scrubbed for several minutes, ignoring the horrible pain of the burns. They never seemed to feel truly clean. It still felt like they were covered. I whimpered and moved to the bed and crawled in, not even bothering to change. Though I was exhausted, I could not sleep. His face kept swimming in front of my eyes, making me shiver in fear.  
  
His face was horrible.  
  
But his fury. Oh his fury. That was what I truly feared. Taking off his mask was like removing the lid to Pandora’s Box. It allowed for a tirade of madness and horror surge forth into the world. I could not stay here, knowing he could be back at any minute. I had to leave. 

____

-

It had surely been hours since Erik had left. I had heard no sign that he had returned and I decided that there was no better time to leave. I crept to the door and eased it open, allowing no sound to escape. The house was in the same disarray as when Erik had left and I took comfort in that. He was not back yet. Not stopping to grab anything, I ran through the front door to see the lake stretched out before me. This was the only way in that I knew of. Thankfully I knew how to swim and I wasted no time in removing my heavy dress, leaving me only in my undergarments. Shifting... Did I hear shifting behind me in the house? Panicking, I plunged into the lake forcing myself not to gasp at the sheer iciness of the water. Gathering myself, I quickly began swimming out into the middle of the water knowing that Erik would find me if I did not hurry. I could hear knocking behind me and the distant calling of my name. I pushed myself further when I heard it repeated slightly more urgently. He knew. Surely he now knew. By the light of his house I could see I was now nearing half way, I could make this. I would reach the other side and race up the stairs. I could not stay here in this opera house. He would find me and he would bring me back. God knows how he would punish me for defying him.  
  
“CHRISTINE!” Erik called, his voice echoing across the water.  
  
His voice was a mixture of rage and fear. Without looking I knew he was looking for me. Probably tearing apart the already desolated rooms to find me. I gave a whimper of fear and re-doubled by efforts, fighting against protesting muscles to keep going. I was surely near the edge now... surely. Just as I thought I was nearing the bank, I felt a tug on my leg. In my blind panic I turned around to slap Erik, but my hand met nothing. There was a tugging again and I was submerged briefly under the water. The grip around my leg relaxed, allowing me to breach the surface again. I soon heard the sound of splashing behind and I went to call out for Erik before I was pulled under again. Something was keeping my head underwater, wrapped around my leg. Without thinking I screamed and instantly felt the air from my lungs lessen considerably. I fought to meet the surface to get some air, kicking my restrained leg fiercely. The grip became only tighter and I felt panic set in deep in my heart as I started thrashing against my captor. It was useless. I was beginning to become light headed and felt my vision fading as I reached down in a futile last attempt to pry my leg free. I could feel a sudden pressure as a large hand grabbed my arm and wrenched me from the grasp that held my leg in place. I was tugged to the surface and the moment my face broke through, I was sucking in greedy gulps of air. Before, it had seemed stale and dank, but now it was one of the sweetest things on this earth. I barely felt Erik haul me back to his home as I continued to breathe heavily. It was only when he lay me on the bank that I registered anything. Fatigue was settling over me quickly.  
  
Erik was looming over me. His breath was ragged and I went to speak. To thank him? To reprimand him? To demand him to let me go? I did not know. Before I could say anything, my thoughts were cut off.  
  
“You stupid, ignorant child.” Erik gasped. I felt fear rapidly flood through me once more as I heard his furious tone. I could only watch as he pulled at his hair and collapsed beside me, his thin form shuddering.  
  
“Did I not tell you never to try to leave without me? There are so many things that could hurt you. You could have been killed.” At my silence he seemed to snap and he wrenched me into his grip, shaking me slightly.  
  
“Did you not hear me, Christine?" he yelled, "You could have died!”  
  
All anger and all rage appeared to leave him as this phrase echoed through the cavern. Everything that happened today rushed to me and I heard myself whimper as I shivered. He seemed to breakdown and he roughly pulled me into his arms, burying his masked nose into my hair. I felt his arm slide under my legs before he picked me up to rush me inside. Gazing around wearily I saw everything was still a mess, but the fire was still glowing merrily and he gently set me down in front of it before disappearing. I shifted closer to the fire and wrapped my arms around my legs in a meager form of comfort. Or perhaps protection. I didn't know.  
All I knew was that Erik was furious. Surely he would never let me leave now. Things would never be the same. Would we still sing? Oh how I hoped so. There were so few things precious to me and singing with Erik was one of them. Would he hate me now? Surely he would. I had destroyed his trust. He had told me never to remove his mask, his one rule, and I had broken it.  
  
Just as this thought entered my mind, Erik re-emerged with his arms laden with towels and a change of clothes. He left and waited for me to dry off with the towels and change before he entered, yet again, now with blankets and a cup of steaming tea. I felt my heart swell with gratitude as he securely wrapped me in one of the blankets and handed me the cup, allowing the soothing drink to warm me. I winced slightly as the heat irritated my burns, a gesture that was not missed by Erik. He knelt down beside me and, setting my cup aside, gently took my hands within his own. And I closed my eyes as the feeling of his cold hands soothed my own.  
  
“I am so sorry Christine, Erik- I - did not mean to,” Erik murmured. My eyes slipped open to see him gently caressing my hands and up to the dark, hand-shaped bruises forming on my wrists with pure remorse blazing in his eyes. I felt compassion sweep through me and I took one of his hands in my own.  
  
“Erik, please,” I said firmly. “Don’t." his eyes widened as I continued, "You saved me tonight. Even after what I had done. I destroyed the trust you had in me. Erik. I hope you will forgive me.”  
  
Erik seemed shocked by my words.  
  
“You cannot forgive me, Christine. What I have done-" he whispered as he caressed my bruised skin "- is unforgivable"  
  
I shook my head and grasped his hand, ignoring my pain, "Erik, that is for me to decide. What I did was wrong. I didn't understand you before. Why you wore that mask. I do now. Please. You are forgiven. Am I?"  
  
He seemed to struggle to find the right response.  
"My Christine. Of course. If you truly can forgive your Erik for what he did to you.”  
  
“Then it is all forgotten,” I smiled and stuck my hand out to him, waiting for him to shake it. He cautiously reached out with one trembling hand and enclosed my small hand in his, careful not to cause me any further pain.  
  
“Forgotten,” he agreed.  
  
From there we lapsed into a comfortable silence as we both stared into the flames that crackled merrily in the otherwise dark room, sipping the tea and relishing in the warmth. After a time he quietly asked if we could sing together, his voice was soft and gentle. I nodded eagerly and went to stand up to arrange myself in the correct stance, but, to my surprise, Erik stopped me with a light arm on my shoulder, gently urging me to sit beside him. He began a quiet duet and I waited for my part to come. His voice washed over me and lulled me into a state of pure contentment. I allowed my eyes to close as his voice carried through the room. We continued our song. The mixture of our voices, blending and dancing around each other beautifully in the darkened room, seemed to entwine perfectly, as if they were made for each other by the angels themselves. By the end, both Erik and myself basked in the glow of the fire as the last note faded into the night. I slowly turned to Erik and felt a familiar tug at my heart as I looked at him. He glanced towards me and I could see his eyes crinkle slightly under his mask. He was smiling at me.  
I slowly, cautiously reached forward once more. Erik panicked and grabbed my hand with his own. His eyes were suddenly wide with shock.  
  
“Christine. Don’t, please.”  
  
I ignored him and gently pried my hand from his before moving forward again. As soon as my hand touched his face, he flinched slightly. But I continued to press my hand to his cheek until he slowly relaxed into my palm, seeming to give in. He allowed my fingers to trace the edge of his mask and I felt him give a shuddering breath at the contact. Slowly this time, I lifted the mask from his face and looked away to set it aside. When my eyes returned to his face I made no sound. It was still the same. The sunken eyes, the non-existent nose and the skin pulled tight with the veins showing. Yet this time, his face was motionless. There was no rage, no fear and no fury showing. He looked almost peaceful, though his eyes were shut tight as he waited for my scream of horror or shouting in disgust. It never came. Instead I slowly raised my hand and placed it on his cheek once more, causing Erik to flinch again and open his eyes in surprise. He watched my face with barely suppressed wonder as I explored his. The skin was bumpy, but softer than I imagined and I allowed my hands to feel every inch of his face. Only when I heard him take a ragged breath did I realise that Erik was crying. Tears were streaming down his face as he tried to suppress his sobs. I winced as my fingers traced over the fresh wounds from those few hours ago and withdrew my hands slightly.  
  
“Does it still hurt?” I whispered to him.  
  
Erik shook his head, partly in wonder.  
  
“Even now, after everything he has done to you. You still worry about your poor Erik.”  
  
I smile at him. A true, honest smile.  
  
“Of course Erik. You are very dear to me, my angel.”  
  
At these words he buried his face in his hands and his body shook with silent sobs. His next motion surprised me as he reached up and removed his wig from his bowed head, exposing wispy, patchy blond hair. I winced slightly at the sight of his skin stretched so thin that a portion of his skull was exposed. Collecting myself, I took in the image of this sad, broken figure. My act of simply accepting his face had reduced him to a mess of tears and gratitude and I felt another surge of compassion for this poor man. Unwrapping myself slightly from the blanket, I reached towards Erik and wrapped him in it as I embraced him. His head rested against my chest as I held him, and I soon felt, rather than heard his sobbing increase as he returned my embrace. I reached up and stroked his head as I waited for him to calm down. And there we sat, for several minutes as he cried, my own tears threatening to fall.  
  
“Erik?” I said, pulling out of his embrace once he had at last calmed.  
  
He looked at me cautiously, “yes?”  
  
“Hello.” I whispered as the tears slipped out of my eyes. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are an absolute delight to receive


End file.
